Page 138 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

“I have not been here for you enough.” His brows pinched, hand stalling as he cut a bite of venison. “I assumed with Kyra, you did not want me around.”

Something twisted in Emillie’s chest. The remnants of her heart, perhaps. She did not move or speak for a long moment. In truth, she had not just wanted him around…she had needed him. He was now the one constant in her life that grounded her in who she once was. Kyra had not been as present over the nights following—busy around the manor, she had claimed—yet she had done her best to piece Emillie back together in passing. She could only do so much without knowing how Emillie was meant to look. It was like fitting the pieces of a puzzle together with no image to reference. Only Alek had that image.

“She does what she can,” Emillie said and finally met his gaze. “But I do not want you, Alek. I need you. I need you…”

He released his hold on the cutlery and sat back, covering his face with his hands. After a quick rub, he let them fall to his lap. “I am sorry. I will do better. When we get to Armington, things will be much easier.”

Emillie gave him a sad smile. “I do not see us returning to Waer anytime soon.”

After a glance at the door, Alek leaned forward almost conspiratorially and said, “We leave tomorrow. I received approval and an escort.”

Her chest tightened. “What?”

“We leave at dusk,” he said. “I have given the coachmen word to prepare.”

She gaped at him, her mind scrambling to keep up. “When did you plan to tell me this?”

“This morning, of course.” He nodded to her plate. “You really should be eating. You will need the energy for such endeavors.”

Alek’s sudden shift unnerved her. He kept secrets, and such things did not promote trust with her. Why would she need additional energy to travel to Armington? Yes, travel was always tricky, even for vampires, but moving west was often far safer than east. Fewer dhemons occupied the Keonis Mountains near Waer, and trade with the high fae was better because of their close proximity.

“How did you convince him to let us leave?” Emillie surveyed him, skeptical. “You do not truly wish him to be King…right?”

Alek gave her a hard, meaningful stare, then glanced at the servants around them. “He is our King now, and we will obey his commands. My loyalty has provided for us. Please, Em. Understand my position. I must take care of you.”

Without looking behind her, Emillie knew he spoke words to keep the servants from slipping up and repeating anything treasonous around the soldiers outside the manor. He trusted them, and therefore she trusted them, but even the most reliable servant could make a mistake.

Emillie picked up her fork again and brought the previously-speared potato to her mouth. It tasted like ash despite knowing full well it was flavorful as ever.

How had her life turned into something so terrible? A mere week ago, she had been exultant. Between days with Kyra and Alek’s kindness, there had been nothing to complain about.

Now, everything crumbled around her. Sister missing. Brother silent. Father dead. Kyra distant. Oh, how she wished Ariadne were nearby. If anyone could help her out of this descent into darkness, it would be she who had crawled from it herself.

Then again…if Ariadne could do it, so could Emillie. So she gathered the shards of her broken heart and ate her entire plate of food in silence. Alek had something planned, and she would be ready to act when he needed her to.

Chapter 33

Several nights after collecting every prisoner’s blood oath, Azriel stalked back to the barracks with the others, clinging to the memories of the day. They slipped through his fingers like a sieve. It was as though the harder he tried to recall the gaps of his memory, the faster it disappeared.

All he could see clearly was her. The worst of it was that it wasn’t always her as he wanted to remember her. He saw her gangly limbs as Madan led her to freedom from Auhla. He saw the scars on her back. He saw the door closing behind her with her last words before her departure echoing again and again: I hate you more than you hate yourself.

He saw her severed head clasped in his hands, crumbling away with every gentle stroke of his thumb, accompanied by Melia’s voice: This is what you deserve.

The guards ushered them through the only door of the barracks. He turned down the long hall to his cell when Paerish shouldered past the rest to walk alongside him as though to create a physical barrier between him and the guards. Had he attacked them before? Whatever caused the shift, Azriel didn’t react. Gods, he could hardly remember why he hated the captain of the guards as much as he did. All he could muster was that they were Melia’s pet, and he’d never forget his hate for the Desmo.

“I want you to know,” Paerish said, their voice low enough that only he could hear the words, “I had no idea she’d done that to—”

Azriel rounded on them so fast they reeled back into the wall, eyes wide. He bared his fangs and stepped closer. “You don’t speak of her.”

Paerish held up their hands, eyes searching for—what? A glimmer of sanity? That was long gone. When they found what they wanted, they pushed off the wall and raised their chin to look at him fully. “Melia went too far.”

“Melia is a monster,” Azriel snarled. “And so is anyone who follows her.”

To their credit, Paerish didn’t balk. In fact, they nodded in agreement. “I sold my soul to this hell a long time ago and have only watched her spiral into madness since then.”

He snorted. “Yet you stayed.”

“I had no choice.” Paerish shook their head as though they didn’t have the energy or words to explain themself. He didn’t want their excuses anyway. “I have a choice now. I won’t stand by as she continues down this path.”

---